Paladin's Quest
by Alustriel Silverhand
Summary: The legendary scene of Cecil's transformation from dark knight to paladin. The external transformation is known by all, but here you shall bear witness to his internal struggle, one that may be even more difficult and profound than what's on the outside.
1. Introduction

**Paladin's Quest**

By Alustriel Silverhand

_"And through these doubts and confusion know that you are chosen for this fight...Act not in hatred or in spite...Be unto this world as a perfect knight, even if it means your life...Let your courage find the light within." [Sophia; Cruxshadows]_

_The Enlightened's Lost Tome of Wisdom (Vol. 22, 1201): Doubt--That which stands between a person and their dreams. You could have the most beautiful soul, the strongest body and the sharpest mind, but your life could be but as an insect if your will is not of tempered steel._


	2. Scene 1

Scene 1: A dark and stormy knight

He was a dark knight.

Not a single mote of light shined in his soul, blackened in the pores by his words and deeds, such as he feared nothing could ever erase. And still he felt he had to try, to combat the evil he felt pulsed in his body and in the world around him. With his motley crew of friends the dark knight struck back at the country that raised him, the mighty Baron.

And Baron crushed them. Took the crystals, devastated nations and lives. Took from him his friends, his future and the woman he loved, Rosa. Now he lay sprawled on a stretch of sand, half-drowned, fully demoralized. He shook violently for a moment, grasping his helmet off his head and hurling it far ahead of him. It tumbled and bounced over and over until it finally landed.

That's how Cecil felt. Tossed around by fate to finally collaspe, never to rise again. His friends were gone; where, he knew naught. For many a long moment he was as the helm; immovable, sand caked in his hair, the hair his beloved Rosa loved so much. She'd mentioned that it appeared as moonlight, so bright and white. He thought it a genetic aberration, but she thought it a sign that he was special.

Rosa. He had to keep going for her. She deserved that. With his hands, the dark knight pushed himself to his knees. Then he bent over, face twisted in pain. Clean. Clear. Excruciating. A hand shot to his side and came away with blood. He was injuried; how had he not noticed that before? Then it flooded him, as the waves once had. Leviathan, Lord of All Waters had disrupted his and his team's journey to rescue the stolen Rosa.

His head lifted swiftly. "Edward?" Eyes scanned the beach desperately. "Rydia!" Back and forth they appraised every single mound of sand, every piece of shattered lumber. "Yang!"

"I'm...alone."

Slumping back down, Cecil pounded the sand with his fist, making his helm leap a little. They'd all been lost. In trying to protect people and redeem his rotten soul he'd only plunged it further into evil by his ill-minded decisions and stained past connections. He'd sustained the wound to his ribs by trying to protect Edward as Leviathan attacked. He couldn't even do that...

Shaking his head, Cecil picked up his helm, shoved it under an arm and stood. Each step he took left a bloody footprint in the sand. Pain racked his body, but on and on he walked, steadying his step with his sword. Encased in armor as black as obsidian, wielding a sword of likewise color, it was all a strange constrast to his hair and blue eyes.

Those eyes squinted as they peered over the horizon, and a breath of relief passed from his lips as they caught sight of a large town some distance away. Heartened by this, Cecil hurried on, passing over the sand and onto the fields of grass. If he could just manage to enter and find an infirmary the dark knight could possibly barter medical aide with the few gold coins he'd not lost on his misbegotten journey.

Closer and closer it came and with it came familiarity. Not surprising as the Lord Captain of the Red Wings he explored much of the Blue Planet. Baron was loved by some and hated by others, but she was known to all. Perhaps he had allies still in whatever town this was. Perhaps he could buy mercernaries, supplies and another ship, to continue with his mission to bring back Rosa.

As long as he didn't find himself a place like Mysidia. A thin smile passed his lips at that thought.

Letting out a thin gasp, Cecil stumbled down into the grass, vision graying at the edges. The pain was spreading out from his ribs and into his chest. He wasn't dying he knew; not right now, anyways. But without proper attention he could develop severe complications. When the gray threatened to claim all his sight, his mind flew back to a memory.

Him and Rosa sitting on his bed, him holding her. Flames danced in his hearth, warming them both. How calm she looked as she told him she loved him. How his own eyes shifted as he repeated the words back to her. It was the first time they'd said it. Cecil was stunned to learn that she felt that way for him, considering her deep relationship with Kaiin. But that was over now, and Cecil had longed for her for a while, and he had no intentions on losing her as the dragoon had.

Dragging himself to his feet, Cecil continued on, managing to stumble onto the sign of the town, helm and sword dropping to the grass. Vines overun the sign, concealing the name. His arms hung over the side, Cecil allowed himself a brief rest. His eyes closed. Ever since his decision to turn on Baron disaster after disaster had found him. Now he was the lowest of the low, bereft of almost everything. But so long as he breathed, he owed it to Rosa and every free person on the Blue Planet to fight on.

He pushed off the sign, a hand scattering the vines. His heart caught in his throat at what he saw.

"Welcome to Mysidia."


	3. Scene 2

Scene 2: Fate's Favorite Chewtoy

So this was the life of the great Lord Captain of the Red Wings...

Cecil sunk into the shadows, not relishing the idea of alerting the general populace to his presence. Pain assailed his side yet he could not seek medical aide, not in this town. They'd likely admit him, eagerly, hungrily, and with a single spell or potion would finish him easily, resigning him to their morgue. It was no more than he'd earned, yet the dark knight somehow felt that even while fate led him here to atone for his sins, it had not yet finished with him, playing with him until it finally deigned to bring him to the path of his purpose.

That's what he hoped anyways.

Mutterings, cursings and mumblings fluttered around him, setting the heart in his chest to a frantic pace, but he kept his head down and his pace steady. They could utter and grumble but so long as none dared move against him, the dark knight felt he could manage it. Before he had a long line of men at his beck and call, murdering and looting in the name of Baron. But now he had himself alone, and barely that, as the agony brought into stark relief his perdicament again.

Fortunately the swinging, paint-faded sign "Matoya's Cave" came into view. Cecil stepped within, grateful to be away from the staring, glaring eyes if but for a little while. Inside was damp and smelled of the dead and decaying. Seated behind a red oak desk was a woman who was too old to be living, yet knit away as a decade, maybe two, younger. She did not look up as he plucked a gray cloak off the shelf and dropped a few coins on her counter, turning immediately for the door.

"Wait!" The old woman stood and appraised him. "You're...You're injuried! You need to go to the infirmary!"

"No!" His voice rose several octaves above what he'd intended. Softer, Cecil said, "No, that will not be necessary." Thinking fast the dark knight added, "It's just a flesh wound. If you would be point me in the direction of an inn I would be most grateful..." His hands extended, imploring in an non-threatening manner.

"Corneila is the finest inn in the city, sir. If you wish--"

His mind skidded around and then his mouth leapt into action. "Any place less...more private? I'm a man of modest means and of no interest in announcing myself. Any other place you could recommend?" His armor felt strangely, unbearably hot, but stripping out of it right here and now obviously wouldn't do.

"I guess you could always go to Zozo. But it's a bit of an oddball inn, mostly for those sort of

travellers I'd find questionable myself..."

"Where is it?"

"To the south." She pressed her lips together, crinkled forehead forming another few lines. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather see a white wizardess?"

"No, that will be all," he uttered softly, exiting the store.

Letting out a long breath, Cecil threw the cloak over his body, feeling like it was a shield to the eyes upon him. Though the white mage in the store was well-meaning, he feared that even her good intentions would blow his cover. He schooled his step and invested it with nonchalance, as if he belonged here. Everything now depended on the secrecy of his presence. If the dark knight could find shelter for the night, procure a few provisions and maybe a map, he could make his way out of this area and hopefully into lands more favorable to one of his notorious title.

Today was not a good day to be a dark knight.

Particularly not him, Cecil thought, as he heard someone call out to him.

"Hey, you!"

The blood crystalized in his veins and for a moment he froze in mid-step. Then, purposely, he set that foot down and continued his unhurried march south of the city. The voice called out again, angered.

"You--you're that dark knight from Baron...aren't you?!"

Acting as if the mage spoke to another, Cecil kept on walking, his blue eyes flashing around for some sort of escape. He could dart back into the store, but the mage would likely follow and he had no desire to involve the elderly woman further. Palms sweating in the gloves, the dark knight slowly turned around to face the glowering visage of a black mage.

Thankful for the cloak that shadowed his own face, Cecil gruffly muttered, "No, don't know him."

"How could you not know him? Everyone in Mysidia knows that bastard!"

He supposed he should have known that. Better to have denounced his own name and leave the mage grumbling than act as if he didn't even know the name. The mage's suspicious eyes narrowed and Cecil again had to think fast. He could fight his way out. There was no one around to see his blade and if the dark knight acted fast enough he could stiffle any scream...

And what, add to his list of murdered? Give more glory to his damned kingdom? Stain his soul with even more darkness so that even the brightest light couldn't pierce?

Maybe he couldn't kill the mage, but it's not like he had to let him in on that fact...

Out came the blade, its hilt of skull-stone a black spot on the grass and cobblestone streets of the mage-city. The black mage bristled, eyes dark under the rim of his straw hat. When his arms lifted, emerald light burning on his gloves, Cecil decided that if he shouldn't bloody his blade, then it was the time to honor the better part of valor.

He didn't know what the light meant and decided he didn't want to.

Fleeing down the street, his boots slapped noisly against the stone, Cecil felt his heart running along with him. Uttering all manner of curses, the mage tossed spell after spell at the dark knight, missing each time by mere inches. At one point, Cecil bumped into a white mage who promptly yelled out "Dark Knight!" and scurried off in the other direction.

It was becoming increasingly obvious that running would avail him none so Cecil again took to the shadows. Hiding behind a well, he watched as the black mage scuttled around, tossing out little incantations here and there, no doubt trying to flush him out from his scantuary. But whether fate's favor or just dumb luck, the mage didn't think to investigate the well. Still, the dark knight remained hunched behind it for many long moments, forcing his mind to settle.

It was just an ordinary well, but for Cecil it had likely saved his life.

After all the drama had scattered from his veins, the dark knight made his way toward Zozo. The woman had spoken true--it was quite a haphazzard edifice, poorly maintained and home to a number of questionable characters. But to one such as himself, it could prove a boon. The odder and less appealing it was, the safer, too.

There were a few mages huddled around a hearth, playing cards of some magical origin. A single white mage sat at a table, nibbling on some sort of fare. Two bards cornered the bar, downing a number of oddly-colored concotions. A few brightly and scantly dressed exotic dancers took turns on the stage, blowing kisses and making provocative poses. Cecil got the impression that this inn was a blotch on the beauty of Mysidia, alive merely because of undeniable tax benefits.

Securing a room was surprisingly uncomplicated, the young woman taking his fake name of Leo Garamonde without a blink. Took his coin as dispassionately too. The room he was assigned was little more than a corner with a mattress on a board, but it would have to do. When he sat on it, it gave a startingly disturbing grumble, but retained his weight.

Placing a hand on his wound, Cecil let out a low moan. It was clotting, thankfully, but still left him too weak to do much else than eat and sleep. And he fully intended to do that. His stomach was making itself known. When had he eaten last? The dark knight found he could not recall. Counting his coins, he realized he had enough for a small meal with some left over for supplies and perhaps another stay at another inn. Not this inn, of course, as he could ill afford to tarry in a town he'd so violated.

Cecil blinked his eyes. Tears? But why? He'd survived it all so far. What was there to be sad about?

What wasn't there to be sad about?

Yang. Rydia. Edward. Rosa. All gone. Kain betrayed him. The crystals were lost. Baron was coming down with iron fists and red wings to destory every kingdom around them. His wound was healing, but he still weakened and he couldn't make a single mistake else the town's inhabitants would discover and kill him. And, there was the matter of his bloodstained soul...

He swallowed hard, mind flying off to another memory. This time it was him and Rosa dancing underneath a bed of stars, over an ocean of grass. She was missing Kain dearly, heartbroken by the dragoon's choice to end their relationship so he could go off in search of his father. Cecil himself had taken a blow to his own heart, reeling from the infidelity of a woman he'd dated. White mage and dark knight had been drawn to each other by shared suffering. And in that they'd discovered that there was so much more to their friendship than either had ever seen.

In the present, Cecil's eyes cleared, his heart settled. He had been there for Rosa then, and he would be there for her now. Standing, the dark knight pulled the cloak tight around him and then made his way down the stairs back into the common room. He paid no attention to the other customers or the dancers. Taking a seat as far away from everyone as he could at the bar, Cecil cleared his throat.

"A meal and a drink, please. Whatever your special is."

The bartender came over to him, dressed in the robes of some minor mage. Squinty eyes scrutinized him and then with a huff, he set to task. Cecil let his gaze wander, purposely keeping it away from the dancers. Troians he supposed. A few of his retinue had encouraged him to go to the beautiful city of Troia to avail himself of the dancers, but the dark knight had resisted. Oh, he'd had his temptation, but his heart kept him check, reminding him of one he loved. He barely felt he deserved Rosa as it was. There were days he even wanted to push her away, to keep her safe from what he felt was darkness that would infect her also.

But with that beautiful stubborn face she gently forced her way into his mind and his heart.

"Here, I've just the thing for you."

Startled out of his reverie, Cecil glanced at the peculiar color of his glass and then up at the eyes of the bartender. There was something peculiar in those dark depths too. Around him the guests were becoming suspicious. Whispers circulated, choking his courage. His gaze returned to the glass. Maybe he was garnering notice because he didn't drink. Quickly he downed the liquid, gasping as it burned his throat.

Within seconds his vision blurred and he stumbled off the chair. Laughter floated in the air like the miasma of smoke. The dancers were dancing a lot more erratically now and the bards seemed to double. Sounds in the bar seemed louder and quieter all in the same time and as the dark knight made an effort to stand, something became horribly obvious.

He'd been poisoned.

"Serves you right you miserable bastard!" The bartender threw the glass at him, shattering it on his back. Cecil let out a cry of pain, dodging more glasses that sought his face.

At this point, the customers joined in. Bards bashed him on the head with their lutes, black mages uttered spells of ice and fire that nipped him and even the white mage kicked him in the stomach. Stumbling, Cecil did his best to fend off the attacks, but between the poison and his own injury he barely managed to keep himself from ending up killed.

Hurrying out of the inn, Cecil staggered into the streets. His ill fortune did not end there. The patrons followed him, urged on by the angered bartender and others that had started to come out of the houses. All around him were the faces of furious mages, armed with items from the bar and their own weapons. Others joined them, ones that had been suspecting him earlier that day and some that simply observed him. Even the old lady from the store was among them, her face twisted more by rage than by age.

Cecil stumbled to a knee, drawing his sword. His vision was dancing and his wound had reopened, spilling blood on the pristine grass. They'd encircled him now, leaving no exit, save for one that ended in his death or theirs. At this point, the dark knight was fairly certain that the end would be his. It was not as if he could even fight them, for that would defeat the whole point of his path toward redemption.

"Come on, why don't you kill me?" His voice trembled, tears fighting their way back to the surface. "Have your revenge. I deserve it. I know it..." The last few words were uttered so softly he doubted they had even heard. Seeing their hesitation, he hurled down his sword, letting that hand lower to his knee. "Look! I will not even fight you. Do your worst. At least by my death some of your pain might be eased..."

Lowering his head, Cecil waited for the blow or blast to come, ending his miserable existence. How had he thought he could strike back against Baron? Why had he thought he could do anything even remotely heroic? Rosa deserved better. Yang, Edward, Rydia had all deserved better. He was a failure, not worthy of their devotion and trust.

The moment of waiting was excruicatingly long. As if to deny him even the peace of the end of his existence, fate teased his death out. Why didn't they finish him? Did they wish to see him beg for his life? Cry in fear? Make some halfhearted attempt at escape?

Unable to bear it any longer, Cecil opened his eyes. And he simply did not believe what he saw.

The High Elder of Mysidia, Lukhan, standing before him.

The very man he'd struck down himself before snatching his city's crystal.

Did the man want the pleasure of snuffing out his life himself?

"The next person to do this man harm will be banished from this city."

What had the Elder just said?

"Steve, fetch a cot. Jane, get this man some bandages."

Cecil feared he was so delirious that he created the world around him and the characters in it. Those mages that had once been glowing with pre-murder fury could simply not be lifting his body into a cot and carrying him. They couldn't be using salves to sooth his wound, nor be uttering healing spells to hurry along the clotting. The pain and the posion must have stolen his mind, and the dark knight feared that unless he could force himself to bring back reality, he'd be lost to insanity forever more.

But instead of sanity returning, his mind shut off entirely to the sweet folds of sleep.


	4. Scene 3

Scene 3: A Touch of Destiny

With a low groan Cecil awoke. Sunlight shining through the stain-glass window burned his eyes and he lifted a hand to shield his face. Stretching, the dark knight let out another groan, hand stealing to his side. The pain had diminished significantly, and were it not for a slight scar one would never have believed he'd sustained an injury at all.

Outside bubbled a city alive in the merriment of business, commerce, arcane activity and with the lives of Mysidia's citizens. A pair of mages adorned in black robes exchanged scrolls. A white wizardess called out to her apprentice. Through the window Cecil could see it all, along with the beautiful tapestry of foilage and roots pushing their way up cobblestone streets.

His gaze swept around his room. It became very apparent that he was in a room in the Hall of Prayers; if the religious paintings on the walls didn't make it apparent, the half a dozen eccelestial ornaments on the oak dresser did. On a chair lay his clothes, cleaned and pressed. His armor and sword were no where to be found, however.

He supposed that was more than fair, all things considered.

For being the most hated man in the entire city, Cecil couldn't understand why he was afforded the lap of luxury. His pillow was made of soft chocobo feathers; the sheets on his bed were made of some sort of fabric from faraway Damcyan. The entire room was opulence, and as far as he could tell, he was afforded the highest in medical care, what with the near non-existence of his wound.

Somehow, someway, their kindness made him feel all the worse.

Cecil hurriedily dresssed, feeling somewhat naked without his armor and vulnerable without his blade. Stepping around the room in his socks, the dark knight contemplated his next move. Escape? With an entire city of high-classed mages alerted to and angered by his presence just outside his door? But waiting in this polite prison was setting his nerves to fraying. What were they going to do with him in the end?

Mired in thoughts, Cecil half-jerked as a knock came upon his door. Knowing naught else what to do the dark knight told them to enter. In came a young white mage, a single red braid slung over a shoulder. Her hands held a tray of food, the kind that one has at noontime. Noontime? Had he slept half the day away?

The tray teetered in her hands so the dark knight stepped over to take it from her. The moment his hands touched the tray she gave a yelp and dropped it. An odd assortment of colors stained the carpet where the food now made its home. Giving another squeal, the white mage retreated back out the door.

"W---wait!" he called. "I'm sorry! Come back. I'm not going to hurt you!"

Someone did enter just then but it was not the white mage. Instead a mage with volumious ebony robes stood glowering at him. The look he gave Cecil could cut through adamanite. He dropped the dark knight's boots at his feet, bare inches from the pile of food splattered on the carpet. "Put them on and follow me." As if an afterthought the mage added. "And don't try any funny business. You so much as look at me wrong and...Puff! You're gone."

Wordlessly Cecil threw the boots on and followed the mage out the door and into the corridor. All through the journey through the Hall of Prayer the former Lord Captain sensed and saw the stares. Hateful, but also fearful. What were they afraid of? A lone man without so much as a piece of armor to shield him or a kitchen knife to fight with? But Cecil supposed that they didn't know that, perhaps thinking this a prelude to a wanton display of bloody destruction.

The kind of display Baron was fast becoming known for.

And he was their Angel of Death.

His head lowered, his hands hung harmlessly, Cecil was determined to appear innocous as the black mage continued to lead him through the corridors. Eventually he stopped, gesturing the dark knight forward. "The Elder would have a word with you."

Cecil's heart caught in his throat as he gazed upon the dooor. It was the one to Mysidia's Crystal Room. The same room were he had struck down the Elder and stolen the Water Crystal himself. Had the Elder wanted him to see the scene of the crime? Still, whatever Lukhan had in mind, the dark knight knew he'd earned. With no other recourse, Cecil placed his hands upon the door.

Inside the room beamed with the luminensce of a thousand unseen lights. That light bounced off the crystalline floor, which reflected the dark knight's form. It also reflected the form of the altar, conspicous with its lack of a crystal. A hand rested upon that pedastal which belonged to the Elder who stood with his back to Cecil. No one spoke for many long moments. Thinking that the Elder wanted him to speak first the dark knight cleared his throat but Lukhan opend his mouth first.

"You are Cecil, Lord Captain of the Red Wings of Baron. Why have you returned to this city?"

Lowering his head as he lowered his voice Cecil said, "I was Lord Captain until very recently. What I did before I did because I did not have the courage to disobey the orders of my king."

Lukhan slowly turned around, beard not quite concealing the frown upon his face. "You've come to apologize then? Words do not heal wounds, dark knight, nor do they restore life's flame to those you have doused."

Shame overcame Cecil's face as he recalled the memory. Mages battered and broken. Buildings burning. All because of him and his inability to refuse a order he knew he ought not follow. His head lifted when he heard the Elder continue.

"But I do see a glimmer of light in you I did not see before. I will hear your words."

Here was his moment, a possible turning point in this disaster. He would make the most of it.

Breathing deeply, Cecil said, "I seek to stop a man who has taken control of Baron. His name is Goblez. I was on my way to rescue a friend he took captive when Leviathan struck our ship." His voice barely above a whisper he added, "I do not know what became of my companions."

Those last few words shattered the wintry shroud around the Elder. His own voice was soft. "That was no doubt part of the ordeal ordained for you. As long as you lean upon the dark sword for strength, you have no hope of defeating the evil you face." Like a man peering into a globe--or crystal--Lukhan circled him, eyes seeming to pierce him. "You hunt a monster but in doing so you become one yourself. Slowly but surely the darkness will taint your soul as well, until nothing else remains."

Head dropping again, the dark knight felt defeat settle on his shoulders. What choice had he but to bear the dark sword? He had no other powers. As it was he was like an imp up against the myth-creature the Monster of Babil. Take away the sword and he was beyond helpless. A hand fell upon his shoulder and he looked up again.

"Do not fret, young Cecil." That hand lifted his chin up, raising the dark knight's gaze to lock with the Elder's. "I know you have your own purpose in this world, as do all creatures of the Blue Planet. I will find your life's path and do my best to set you upon it." Before Cecil could do anything to stop him, Lukhan placed his hand on his forehead.

Like he plunged into a waterfall the dark knight felt himself falling, spinning into a sea of memories. The king knighting him. The queen, his adoptive mother, dying. He and Kain sparring. Edward playing his lute. Cid working on the Enterprise. Rydia bouncing around as she played with Whyt. Tellah mumbling. Yang telling him about martial arts techinques. Rosa smiling as he held her...

...a sword, bright as starlight, in his hand...

There were words on the hilt, but Cecil couldn't make them out.

When he was dragged up from the waves of rememberance, the dark knight pulled sharply away from Lukhan. Many of those memories were deeply personal and he resented having them laid bear for the Elder to pick through and scruntize. Yes he'd committed sins on this man and his people but what purpose could there possibly be in invading his mind like that?

"I don't believe it."

Cecil's angry words dropped back down his throat as he gazed upon the Elder's glazed expression. Lukhan looked at Cecil in a peculiar way and the dark knight couldn't figure out whether it was a boon or not. Circling the dark knight, Lukhan suddenly seemed to come to a conclusion or a decision or something for he snapped his fingers and yelled out, "Midia, get the book."

And then he promptly left the room with no preamble or explaination.

"W--wait..." Cecil stepped out of the room. In the connecting corridor the Elder was literally hurling himself down it, crazily searching for something. Several other mages buzzed around him, also hunting for what Cecil guessed was the same something. A book he surmised from Lukhan's last few words, that, and the tomes they were rapidly reviewing and then tossing aside.

After about twenty minutes (in which no one answered his questions) one of the mages lifted a large blue-binded black book and presented it to the Elder. Gingerly he lifted it, one eye apprasing the dark knight. That look made Cecil distinctly uncomfortable. Flipping it open Lukhan ran a finger along a page, no doubt scanning faded lines of text. When the finger stopped, he spoke.

"If you truly wish to cleanse yourself of darkness you must go to..." His eyes reread a few words. "....Mount. Ordeals. It's in the east. Desinty awaits you there."

Jerking like a salmon on a line, Cecil protested, "But my friend is in danger!"

The Elder's gray eyes softened. "This friend means much to you, doesn't she?" Not once had Cecil mentioned that his friend was a female and yet Lukhan correctly guessed that. "But you must not let fear drive you to haste. The fate that hangs on your shoulders is far greater than you know."

Somehow Cecil knew he was being herded into some sort of experiment or religious fanactisim. Yet for the life of him the dark knight couldn't react fast enough to side-step it.

"First, you must ascend the mountain and trade your dark sword for one of light." Eyes cemented to the pages, Lukhan spoke as if the words came from some great deity. "Should the hallowed light deem you worthy you will be made a...a paladin--a warrior of virtue." His voice was hushed at those words. He then snapped the book shut. "But know this will be no easy feat. Many are the men who have scaled that mountain and not one has returned."

Mere hours ago Cecil was surrounded by mages lusting for his blood. Here, now, he was being asked to accomplish some sort of magical miracle borne for men of honor. But he was entirely without honor. He was a man with not the strength to turn on his disreputable country until he'd already committed unspeakable crimes. All to become a paladin.

Cecil himself had heard of paladins. He knew of none personally, of course, and most, including himself, believed the holy warriors to be a myth. Knights of impeccable honor, highest level of swordmanship skills and wielding spells of lower-leveled white mages. There had even been a story of one who lived long ago who wielded a sword born out of light...

...same as the one he'd envisioned in his trance.

The dark knight shivered.

"Will you accept this quest?"

Him? A paladin? The very idea was ludricrious. But then the dark knight recalled a certain memory, the one were he was hunched over, beaten, unable to protect Rosa because he had naught the power to do so. Kain had easily defeated him within minutes and he was only a henchmen of Goblez. To even have a chance against the warlord Cecil would need a formidable power and the power of a paladin was definitely that.

"I will," he heard himself say.

The Elder beamed. "Good. But you will have little chance with that dark sword alone. I shall provide two mages to assist you in your quest." Clapping his hands twice, Lukhan shouted, "Palom! Porom!"

Though Cecil knew not what to expect he suppose he anticipated something a bit different when he gazed up a young woman who stepped into the hall, a white mage by her invory robes. She was barely past puberty, long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. There was an air of maturity and intelligence about her. "Do you need something, Elder?"

Lukhan glanced over her shoulder. "Where is Palom?"

A frown spoiled the visage of the young woman. "Oh that brother of mine!"

As if magically summoned or on cue a flash of light sprang to life next to the young white mage. Out of it emerged a young black mage, and it was clear to Cecil within an instant that they were twins. Same color of hair, same round face, same brown eyes. But while the young woman's eyes were polite the black mage's eyes were mischevious and mirthful. One of those eyes squinted and the other appraised Cecil.

"So you're that flithy dark knight from Baron?" His lips pursed. "I'm only helping out because he told me to. You'd better be thankful!"

When the meaning behind those words registered Cecil gapped, "These two?"

Was this some kind of joke?

The Elder seemed to perceive his concerns for he said, "Yes. Palom and Porom are twins and while they are young and still in their apprenticeship I can vouch for their abilities."

A lazy grin flashed across the boy's face. "What he means is that I'm Mysidia's most esteemed magical prodigy. You're lucky to have me along."

"Palom!" The Elder shouted, his voice aligning the boy's spine. "This is as much for your training as it is for him."

Now it was Cecil's turn to look around his crystal-blue eyes aglaze. The twins greeted him (the white mage bonking her brother on the head to remind him to do so) but the dark knight barely paid attention. His gaze locked on that of the Elder's. Lukhan had a new expression on his own face, one that seemed to know a lot more than it was telling.

"Go now. The trials of the mountain await. I will have provisions prepared for your journey and your armor and sword will be returned to you, Cecil." He was talking over the dark knight who remained expressionless and motionless. "Palom, Porom, I trust you not to fail me in this task." Once again the Elder's hand drifted to Cecil's shoulder. "You too, must not fail. This is your destiny."

"I won't," was all the dark knight could get past the lump in his throat.

After that Cecil was escorted back to his room by the same mage that escorted him out of it. True to his word, the Elder had his sword and armor on the chair. There was no getting out of it now, the dark knight supposed. Cecil lifted that sword and let it rest lightly on his palm. His mind fluttered back to the moment in his trance holding the blade of light. Then the memories wandered to Rosa.

Her lips, soft and sweet as rose petals, met his. He devoured them hungrily, lovingly, longing to savour this moment forever. Between his routine training and her spellcasting lessons the two had barely scrapped together a moment to be...together.

Rosa had introduced him to her mother, Joanna. The woman had not come over to Cecil's side easily--her husband, Rosa's father, had perished in the line of duty as a dark knight--but with gentle prodding and overkill on kind words and deeds Cecil had won her over. Joanna had insisted that her daughter not suffer the same fate, that Cecil would always be by Rosa's side, protect her and came home alive himself.

The memory faded as Cecil returned to the present. He didn't believe for a second that he had what it took to be accepted by the holiest light on the Blue Planet. Paladinhood was for a greater man than he, one whose soul wasn't stained beyond recognition. It was a suicide mission, and the Elder must have known that. That was why he was being sent on it--slaying him here would offend their pacisifist nature, but perishing on some quest? Tragic, but things like that happened all the time.

What choice did he have?


	5. Scene 4

Scene 4: Moonlit (K)night

Could this mountain truly wash away his bloodstained past?

That single thought crashed into Cecil's mind over and over. It was there when he bartered for some provisions for the journey. It was there when he bought a few arrows for Porom and a knife for Palom. It was even there when he glanced over a map, lips in a straight line as he finger moved in a not so straight line along the path they were to take. That thought, and occasionally one other, of whether if, and that was a big if, he could survive the mountain, would the light deem him worthy?

Rolling that thought up and pushing it aside as he did to the map, Cecil suited up, his sword making a satisfying clink as it settled into his sheath. He carried the helm and a backpack, meeting the twins in the hallway. Palom chatted up some young woman while his sister checked her potions. It still bemused and bewildered the dark knight that they'd been assigned to assist him. No matter how mature they were he constantly feared they'd only get in the way.

Still when called out to them they snapped to attention (well, Porom did, and shook her brother into doing the same). The white mage asked again if he rather wait at least another day for his wound to fully heal. Lukhan had offered Cecil up to a week to rest in the city but the dark knight opted to leave the next day. He didn't relish the idea of remaining in this city any longer than strictly necessary.

As they approached the gates, the dark knight's mind fluttered back to Rosa, the largest reason for his leaving immediately. He didn't know of her fate; she could already be dead and he might soon join her. His heart constricted at the thought and he shook it away. Thinking like that would only depress him, and going on this journey could give him the tools to rescue her. He had to believe her still alive. He had to.

Although that was clearly the main reason, it was not the only one. While Lukhan had ordered the city not to lay a finger on him, the glares and comments didn't decrease. If anything, after somehow discovering that he was set to scale Mount. Ordeals, the jeers and ridicule intensified, some deriding the decision and others merely mocking it.

"You, a paladin?" That was the white mage he'd bumped into. "Don't make me laugh!"

"You actually believe that you can become a paladin?" That was the black mage that had pursued him. "That's so rich!"

"Palom, Porom! Don't trust that man for a moment!" And that was the elderly storekeeper. Apparently his ability to be accepted by the light wasn't the only thing the mages doubted about him. His very honor was in question, but considering everything the dark knight had put them through he could hardly blame them.

And so it was a relief to find himself at the gate, soon to be away from this city who's rainclouds seemed to follow him whereever they went. Lukhan awaited them there, his expression wavering between wonder and worry and every other shade of emotion in between. His hug nearly crushed the twins. Clearly they were dear to them, and it gave Cecil pause that the Elder would part with them for his assistance.

Despite their age, Porom and Palom seemed calm, Porom assuring the Elder they'd return safe and sound while Palom waving away the worry with an upturned palm spewing ice. A show-off if there ever was one. Their own good humor heartened the dark knight but when Lukhan turned his attention to him, it made Cecil uncomfortable again. Those gray eyes verily shone.

Did the Elder not understand that he was a simple, lesser man?

But then he was not the only one. Rosa thought him special. The King and Queen of Baron claimed he was no ordinary boy, taking him in as one of their own. His friends always made him the defacto leader, even though Cecil never so much as asked or indicated an interest, his own voice always hushed and hesitant. Everyone always placed such unrealistic expectations on his shoulders.

With a sigh Cecil put the helm on his head, lowering his visor. Then, with the twins in tow, he exited Mysidia.

*

They travelled for hours across plains and through forests. Palom's mouth never ceased, expounding on his many vaulted arcane skills. His twin occasionally cut in, cutting down his tall tales to be more believable and Cecil guessed, more truthful. The black mage would pout, feigning hurt and go on teasing his twin for spoiling his fun. Meanwhile Porom queried Cecil about his health, and received an affirmative grunt each time.

When they took a break, the dark knight scanned the map. Judging by their pace and by the terrian Cecil estimated they'd arrive by the base of the mountain by noon tomorrow. He crumpled it up and stuffed it back into his pack, telling the twins it was time to move on. They all had a drink of water and shuffled on.

"And there I was up against a dragon--"

"He means a wyvern."

"It was a dragon!"

"It was too small to be a dragon."

"It was a small dragon then."

"A small dragon IS a wyvern."

"Na-uh!" Palom became animated now, arms tossed in the air. But as he prepared to launch into another off-the-wall justification for his assessment, Cecil's hand flipped up.

"Quiet."

Had he heard correctly? The bushes rustled, branches snapped and heavy breathing stank in the air. Speaking softly Cecil instructed the mages to draw their weapons. His visor flew up, affording him a better view of the trees around them. His body fell into a rigid, pre-battle stance. While battle could be quite arbitrary and deadly, it was a relief to him. Here he was in his element, away from acccusing stares and harsh words; here, immersed in blood and screams and death, was a place he belonged.

Out they came from the bush letting out guttural curses and tossing knives. Cecil batted them back with his own blade, sending one into the heart of its wielder. Imps, and a score or more of them. Perhaps they thought a single knight and two young mages as easy pickings.

How wrong they were.

Cecil sliced and diced dispatching half a dozen within minutes. The imps quickly realized the power in the dark knight and attempted to give him a wide berth and focus on the physically weaker mages. But they would find no quarter as the Cecil took them down. Monsters were at one time peaceful creatures as Edward explained, but the evil that flooded Baron perverted them also and turned them wild and murderous.

And so while his weapon struck to end life, he did so with no shame, aware that every swing of his sword likely saved the life of some unwary traveller.

A shadow the size of a wyvern (or small dragon!) engulfed Cecil's form. He glanced up, blue eyes shadowed by his visor. His sword swung up, but had to spin back down to block a strike of a spear from another Imp. Though possessing Deathbringer and trained for decades as Baron's fiercest warrior even he must break when facing an assault from the ground and the sky.

What he wouldn't kill to have Kain's dragoon skills, Yang's marital arts techniques or one of Tellah's spells or any of his friends right about now. He was without support of any kind.

Or so he thought.

A cone of flames sprang up from the ground, spinning around the Zu. A horrible scream issued from its maw, and it plunged to its death a few feet away. Dust floated up and distracted the imps giving Cecil the chance to behead one of them. Capitalizing on the distraction further, Cecil went to town on the rest of the imps, slaying them easily.

After the last imp perished, the dark knight rushed over to the twins. Though beads of sweat graced their foreheads they appeared in good health and even better spirits. They sustained not a single injury. Not only had they not needed his protection but they were actually what rescued him when he was in dire danger!

Cecil coughed. "That was..."

"Amazing?" Palom grinned from ear to ear. "Oh, don't tell me you thought me some sort of grade one apprentice mage! Have you not heard any of the stories I've told you?" The black mage bounded around, back to chattering about his endless arcane arsenal.

The admonishment drew a blush out of the dark knight. "Well, I..."

"Don't mind him." Porom fussed around him, white robe making slight swishing sounds. "Are you injuried? Looks like your wound reopened. Here, hold still, I'll heal it again." Her hands lifted and a green light circled Cecil. The wound closed, yet somehow he knew it wasn't gone. He'd not given it enough time to properly heal before setting out, and he was always one to heal slowly.

"We should rest."

At first, the former Lord Captain thought to press on further. If they travelled for another few hours they could possibly cut their trip the next day short and reach the mountain by mid-morning. The faster to the mountain and the sooner this quest was over, the sooner he could go after Rosa. And on some level he knew he wanted to get this over with, because he feared a part of him would balk and he'd run away, too afraid to challenge the mountain and the power within it.

The pack slumped to the ground, the bedroll falling out of it.

"Here we rest."

*

Hues of gold, orange and red danced upon Cecil's face, etching the thoughts upon it into prominence. His mind drifted back to Rosa as it often wont to these days. Days of long walks, long talks, dining and dancing or just spending time together on his bed with not a word spoken and yet everything shared.

"Who is she?"

Jolted out of his memories, the dark knight glanced at Porom who taken a seat on the log next to him. She and her brother set up their bedrolls swiftly, the latter flopping over to snore almost instantly. Overexertion, Cecil supposed. It still amazed him how powerful these young folk were, and yet still how innocent and cheerful they could at the same time be. Porom stayed up even though Cecil told her it was unnecessary; he'd keep his promise to watch over them til dawn. Perhaps she wasn't entirely trusting of him, and he couldn't say he blamed her.

Yet, seeing her unassuming face he didn't believe that for a second. Nor could fathom how she'd known. "I--How?"

She chuckled. "You have that look on your face that guys get when they think of a special girl."

A smile graced his lips. "Her name is Rosa. She is....dear to me. After we scale the mountain I must go find her and protect her." That smile ghosted away. "I failed to before. She deserved better." Then he lowered his gaze, embarrassed. "Nevermind. I shouldn't have bothered you with that."

Another chuckle. "Don't be silly. You just care about her and miss her. You're a good guy, Cecil."

Why did everyone always say that?

She poked the fire with a stick sending sparks to stirring. "I hope a guy one day looks like that when he thinks about me."

Now it was his turn to laugh a little. "Don't you doubt it."

Her cherubic face turned back to him, brightened. "You are a good guy, you just don't know it yet."

Standing up, the white mage bid him goodnight, descending upon her bedroll eagerly. By the sounds of her soft breathing, the dark knight realized she'd fallen asleep. The twins looked like two little angels, framed by bright firelight and moonlight. The sight made him wonder if one day he'd be father and silently swore to himself to protect them, were it even to cost his life.

He might not be stellar at protecting those he cared about, but it wouldn't stop him from trying all the same.

That gaze then flew up to the moons, like silver coins sewn into ebony velvet. Twin moons. A lot of things came in twos. Twins. Best friends. Lovers. Lovers...his mind returned to Rosa, finding its place before Porom had interupted. Rosa was an amazing woman. He treasured every part of her, even the parts that weren't angelic or idolizing. She was not a fantasy to be obsessed over, but a woman to appreciated for her own strength.

His eyes closed and the images burned behind the lids. It had been many long months since any of them had heard from Kain. Rosa and Cecil missed their friend dearly and longed to know he was alive. The wait to hear any sort of news was killing them. And though he'd much rather have him here than not, the one benefit of Kain's absence was that it postponed having to deal with his reaction towards the two of them.

The day came. While Cecil trained and Rosa kept him company word circulated that the prodigal son returned. But something about the dragoon had changed. The moment Kain came into view Cecil felt it, a coldness, a darkness in his eyes that was not there before. And those shadows only deepened as they passed over Cecil and Rosa, and the very little distance between them.

His fist met Cecil squarely in the jaw.

Kain knew. He'd apparently known for some time now, as word reached him through means Cecil had no way of figuring out, and the dragoon certainly wasn't telling. Kain said that the how he knew didn't matter, but rather that he did, and how disgusted he was with Cecil over it. He hurled a number of obscentities at his former friend, yet spared not one harsh word at Rosa. The dark knight took it all with barely a complaint, yet Rosa was not so subdued.

Out came her anger, hurt and frustration. For one so gentle, her words were not gentle now. She berated Kain for acting without asking, for even thinking he had the right to question it. She spewed back his words of "setting her free" and that he had no right to harp on them.

Things were never the same among the three of them again after that. Of course they'd all made nice and hung out and everything went back to normal, sort of. But Kain was aloof now and his presence made both of them uncomfortable at times. They all pretended it it was nothing. That everything would sort itself out.

Cecil lowered his head, the moonlight gracing his white hair. He couldn't see the darkness swallowing Kain's soul until it was too late. Couldn't stop Goblez from subverting Baron, stealing the crystals and kidnapping Rosa. Couldn't protect his friends as Leviathan came crashing down, seperating them all. And now he was expected to do the impossible yet again.

A dark knight become a paladin? When chocobos fly!


	6. Scene 5

Scene 5: Mages, Mountains and More

"I believe this is your area of expertise, Palom."

"As if you needed to tell me that!"

Cecil leaned against a broken pillar, observing the twins in their typical good-natured bickering. His gaze flew up to the mountain more than once, feeling so very small standing up against something so high. Afternoon sky nearly clear of clouds, still the apex couldn't be glimsped, like a floating fortress of stone, all spires, parapets and embattlements. What awaited them on the top?

At that moment a wall of flame barred their entrance, so high was it that even a Zu would be hard pressed to fly over it. But with a single wave of his hand, a blast of ice exploded from Palom's form, quenching it almost instantly. A few heartbeats later and the stone was cold enough to pass over. Turning to the dark knight and his sister, Palom said with a smirk, "And that's how it's done!"

With a upturned hand his sister smacked him upside the head. While Cecil thought that a bit harsh, Palom only rubbed his head out of wounded pride. "What did you do that for!"

Porom frowned. "How many times has the Elder told you not to be so arrogant?"

Her brother gave an irrepressible smile and shrugged his shoulders.

With a remarkable swiftness the white mage's voice flipped from disapproving to pleasant, this time addressing the knight. "Well then, let's continue onward." Without waiting for an assent, Porom snatched up her brother's arm and dragged him up the mountain.

Cecil could only shake his head. They were quite the handful. Hurrying to catch up, he quickly took the lead, reminding himself that they were his charges and he was responsible for their safekeeping. Of course, the dark knight had to acknowledge that they barely seemed to need protection and indeed proved their mettle more than once on the journey here. Still, they were so very young, and he knew that he wouldn't forgive himself if anything happened to either of them.

He had had quite enough of seeing his comrades die or disappear, thank you.

Up the mountain they climbed, Cecil reminding them to conserve their strength. As they scaled the mountain the air would become increasingly thin. While he could probably carry one of the mages back if they fainted due to air-depletion, the dark knight wasn't so certain if about he could manage both of them. Ledge after ledge and plateau after plateau they ascended, with barely a sound.

And then, of course, he heard something. Moaning?

An emaciated body ambled out of the shadows of a barren tree. A pungent smell followed it. No life could be found within its eyes. With a ring of steel and Cecil bore Deathbringer in a single hand. More haggard bodies staggered toward the trio, also bereft of soul and, oftentimes, appendages.

Zombies. Cecil hadn't seen them in years, and very little even then. Most of the undead hovered in caves and swamps, and while the mages in Mysidia had mentioned that they frequented the mountain, Cecil hadn't really expected to see them. Some of his expeditions as Lord Captain brought him in contact with them, but being the leader of the Red Wings, he really hadn't had to deal with them. However, they moved so slowly that the dark knight figured a well-placed blow should take them down.

So you can imagine the dark knight's shock when his blade cut cleanly through the chest of a zombie and it advanced almost unscatched!

"Cecil, watch out!" cried Porom.

The dark knight couldn't move fast enough to evade the blow as the zombie impaled him in the shoulder with a claw. Like fire it was, tearing into his skin. Yelling, Cecil sprang back swinging Deathbringer back and forth, making nary an impact, certainly not enough of a one to keep the monsters back, forcing him to give ground.

"What's happening!? My sword!"

Porom bounded to his side, body haloed by pre-casting energy. A bolt of bright white lightning slammed into a zombie. "Didn't you listen to what the mages said? Your blade is useless against the undead!'

Another bolt blasted into the ground, leaving a smell of ozone in the air. With a gauntleted fist, Cecil punched the zombies back. It was surprisingly more effective than his sword. Though it would hardly slay the undead, he proved a pretty good meatshield and distraction while Palom burned, froze or hit them with lightning while Porom kept them hale and hardy with her healling spells.

After the bout, Cecil ripped the helm off his head in ill humor. His face kept its calm expression, but inside he was burning with frustration. He was a dark knight. A warrior. His element was maiming and killing things. While the mages earned their place in a battle by spewing fireballs and curing illnesses, a warrior's duty was to hack everything in sight.

"Let's rest," said Porom.

Cecil had no rebuttal. The unexpected difficulty sapped his strength. They travelled until they reached a very large plateau and set up a small campfire, taking turns at naps. Though Cecil knew rest was necessary he itched to press on, frustrated by his own mind playing games with him. As it often did when not occupied otherwise, his thoughts turned inwards.

You can't win every fight, Rosa had said. And everyone needs help at some point.

His back against the rockface, Cecil had his eyes closed, resting but not sleeping. Rosa was right then, he knew, thinking on the past once again. The dark knight and his crew had returned from an effort to rescue some of his men from a collasped mine near Mount. Hobbs. It had been a disaster. Only five of the seven men were freed, and one of them would be crippled for life.

Considering the conditions of the mine the fact that they'd managed to bring anyone back without hurting his team was remarkable. But for someone such as Cecil any loss of life was not acceptable. The dark knight had himself gone to the families of the dead and apologized. They'd been understanding and told him not to hate himself. He'd tried, and that's what mattered.

No one blamed him. He'd performed admirably, none could have done better. Yet, the dark knight couldn't forgive himself.

His eyes opened reviewing the plateau as the twins chattered. Palom teased his sister, dangling near the edge, commenting on the shimmering lakes below. The white mage was exasperated, insisting he help out with packing so they could continue the journey. It was a waste of breath, for the black mage tossed rocks down the side of the mountain, brown eyes bright.

"Get back here, Palom!"

Out came the black mage's tongue. "I think I can see a chocobo forest from here!"

"Stop that," she snapped, "You repulsive brat." She stepped on over to him, tugging at his collar.

There was a horrifying moment when Cecil knew something bad was going to happen, yet couldn't act fast enough to stop it. The ledge that the twins stood upon gave a sickening sound and cracked, the line forming around them until it broke away completely, and sent them plunging down. The dark knight heard them scream and burst into action, running for the ledge. He didn't think of what, if anything, he could do; his mind just ordered him to get to the twins.

Leaping off the mountain, the dark knight stumbled unto the cracked ledge. He grabbed both of them by the arm. They both looked startled and the former Lord Captain contemplated what to do now for a heartbeat or two. The wind burned into his face as his mind spun sickeningly with the realization that not only could he not save them, he was doomed now too.

A bright white light coiled the three of them and they vanished, appearing in the middle of the plateau.

A elderly bearded man in multi-colored robes stood before them.

Tellah.

"Tellah!" the dark knight called, crushing the sage in a hug. For his part Tellah looked startled, but relieved. Then Porom and Palom leapt on him, knocking him to the ground with their own hugs of appreciation. Afterwards the four retreated to the old campsite. Cecil's heart was pounding as he considered what could have happened to the twins.

"Man, you saved us! We would have bit the dust!" Palom said.

Porom frowned at her brother. "We're very appreciative of your assistance." The sage just nodded. Then the white mage turned earnestly to Cecil. "You came to our rescue as well."

The dark knight's jaw dropped. "But...I just...I didn't do anything. We'd all have died had Tellah not come by with his teleportation spell."

What had gone through his head? Had he not considered the futility of his attempt? When he'd chased after the two the dark knight did not consider exactly how he expected to rescue them, but that he just had to reach them. Looking back at it now, Cecil wondered how he'd not thought of that before.

"You tried to save us even though you could have perished too." Her brown-haired head titled. "I'd say that's pretty damn heroic."

Cecil's mouth remained agape, but for a different reason. Before he could reply, Tellah asked, "Cecil? Did you come for the power of Meteor as well?"

"Meteor?"

Porom's hands flew up to her mouth. "You know of Meteor...Then you really must be..."

His brother clapped his hands. "You are that old sage, Tellah, aren't you?"

"Show some respect!" The white mage turned to Tellah and curtiesed. "Ahem, it's truly an honor to meet you." She gestured to the dark knight. "We've come here at the request of the Elder of Mysidia."

With a hop, Palom added, "To keep an eye on--Ow! What did you do that for!"

Porom had slapped her brother upside the head. The sidelong glance she shot Cecil did not escape his notice. Keep an eye on...that would have to be him. Cecil's lips formed a straight line. So they were sent to spy on him? That might have bothered him had the dark knight not considered that these were the apprentices of a city he'd ransacked and nearly ruined.

The constant strain of suspicion wore on his nerves, but Cecil contained it.

"Pardon me," the white mage continued. "As I was saying, we've come to guide Cecil to the top of the mountain." She inclined her head, brown ponytail dipping forward. "My name is Porom."

Next to her bounded her brother. "I'm Palom!" An eye squinted. "So you really are that old wizard! You're really famous in Mysidia, you know. Never thought I'd meet you in a place like this." The black mage appeared almost giddy at the thought.

Brushing off his robes, Tellah said, "Mysidian apprentices? I see. Where have Edward and Rydia gone?"

Images of the ship sprang into Cecil's mind. Rydia falling over the side of the ship. Yang diving in after her. Edward stumbling onto the deck, wounded. Leviathan appearing overhead, his shadow large enough to engulf most of the ship. The dark waves closing over his head. And then he awoke on the beach, all alone.

His voice breaking, Cecil uttered, "Our ship was attacked by Leviathan as we sailed for Baron." His head shook then lowered. "They were...they were lost to the sea."

The sage blinked and fell silent. Cecil saw the disbelief in his eyes, guilt even. Did he feel remorse for abandoning them? Did he feel he might have saved them had he been there? His own grief was reflected in the dark knight's crystal-blue eyes. Tellah had been fond of Rydia, treating her as he did a younger Anna. He had not been as fond of Edward, yet the prince was a connection to his daughter, and the loss must have felt like he was losing a part of Anna again.

"So they both died." Tellah gazed at the sky.

"I'm afraid so. And Rosa has fallen into Golbez's hands." Even uttering those words, that the white wizardess was captive, constricted the dark knight's heart.

There was a brief exchange between Palom and Porom about Rosa being his girlfriend or something, but Cecil barely heard it, and Porom silenced her brother once again. Meanwhile gazing upon Tellah, the dark knight realized they had a common goal: finding Golbez. The sage was a magical marvel, and had more than enough reason to want Golbez dead.

"Weren't you planning on going after Golbez?"

Now the sage's dark gaze focused, intensifying. "Yes, but my magic is no match for a man of his strength. I've been searching for the legendary magic of Meteor. It has long lain sealed away, and I know not where. But I feel a powerful aura radiating from this place. I believe the spell I seek may rest in this mountain."

Porom stepped forward, mouth dropping open. "But that spell is dangerous! If a man of your age were to cast it--"

Like a dark cloud shadowed his face the sage snapped, "I'm well aware of my age and the dangers! But I would gladly lay down my life if it were to end his. I will defeat Golbez!"

There was another exchange between the twins of which the brother chidded Tellah for being "stubborn" and "pigheaded" and Porom admonished him for "being in no danger of growing up" and that he should just "be quiet". Cecil didn't know many younger folk, spending the better part of his life in the army, so the little chit-chat between them amused him.

What would it be like to be a father?

"Why have you come, Cecil?" It was Tellah.

Hardly believing the words coming out his mouth, the dark knight said, "To become a paladin. A dark sword cannot slay Golbez, and I've no love of the loathsome thing as it is." In his mind's eye flashed the image of piercing the zombie and having little effect. If a zombie could sustain such a hit and be nearly unscatched what hope had he attacking the warlord with it? "I'll be glad to be rid of it."

The rest of the discourse fluttered into and out of the dark knight's mind. Having the sage along would be a boon. Somehow Cecil sensed this mountain had graver dangers than mere undead and that they would need every bit of help they could get.


	7. Scene 6

Scene 6: Precipice

The grey pre-dawn covered the skies, leaving a melancholy feeling in the cold mountain air. He'd barely slept a wink all night. He supposed now was the perfect time to get sucked into the time vortex of his memories even though the dark knight was hardly wanting and willing. His mind had a...mind of its own, dragging him into the past.

He had kept it hidden in his pocket. A grin wove its way across his face. When Rosa arrived at his behest he'd pulled her aside, his eyes shining. Out came the ring. He was proposing to his long-term girlfriend, Nina.

There was a flash of surprise on Rosa's face, followed by something Cecil hadn't expected--sadness. He'd frowned, disappointed. At one point he'd had a crush on Rosa herself, but that was in the past now. It was time to commit to Nina. Yet the next few words the white wizardess said crushed his whole world.

Nina had been unfaithful. Kain had caught her writing a letter to her lover, a man she'd once been involved with. She had wanted out, but instead of simply saying so she'd played the field with Cecil's heart as the ball, bounced and beaten around. And now she'd dropped the ball.

Cecil hadn't cried even though he'd wanted to. His heart had felt like a cold stone in his chest. Rosa had hugged him, encouraging him to confront Nina. It was a terrifying thought, but the dark knight knew she was right. He was so numb from having his future as he knew it ruined Cecil wondered if he'd ever feel again.

Standing before Nina he realized he could feel again--anger and despair. Anger at the betrayal; despair at the loss. When she took his hands in hers, they felt foreign. Like she'd plunged a blade into his body her words cut through him. She didn't love him, though he was a "great guy". With a kiss to his cheek, Nina walked out of Baron and out of his life forever. And they were to be engaged that very night.

After returning to his quarters he'd stayed there for a day and a half. Rosa and Kain constantly came around to coax him out. It was only when Kain left for Troia in search of his father, ending things with the white wizardess around that time that the dark knight finally broke free of his cloud of misery. He'd trained for the position of Lord Captain, focused his negative energy into productivity on the battlefield and was awarded the highest acolades but it was only when someone shared his pain did he realize how much he was needed.

Rosa needed him. His pain helped him to relate to hers. They both lost something precious through no real fault of their own. They swore together not wallow in their grief, but rather focus on helping others, he as a protector of Baron, she as a healer of the ill and infirm. And it was after a few more months that the dark knight realized that his heart reeled in turmoil once again.

He was falling for her again, harder and faster this time. And he was never more terrified.

Cecil blinked, realizing he'd been lost in the storm of memories so long he hadn't seen his companions rise. Tellah was busily studying a mage-book, muttering words the dark knight could only guess as arcanic. Porom and Palom cooked something greasy and smokey, the white wizardess complaining about how messy it was while her brother intentionally made it even messier.

Standing at the edge, Cecil crossed his arms, observing the shimmering lakes below. Tellah strode over to him, mumbling in his snow-white beard. "There is an evil on this mountain, but also a strong force of light." He shot the dark knight a sideways glance. "Which do you suppose we'll encounter?"

Before Cecil could answer his attention was drawn to a sharp hissing sound. Hauling off his helm he listened carefully and was rewarded with it twice more. It appeared in the direction they were headed which was the bridge on the summit that stood between them and their destination, a beautiful cystalline tomb at its highest peak.

What did that tomb house? Somehow as they neared the edifice the more Cecil became convinced that this all was not mere chance. The Elder insisted his presence was destiny somehow, something ordained by the fates decades or more before. The dark knight was not a spiritual sort, but there was no denying the powerful aura of the mountain and especially that tomb.

Porom bonked her brother on the head. "Stop that!"

"I'm not doing anything!" he protested, rubbing his head.

Frowning Cecil said, "Let's move on. We'll figure it out soon enough."

In less than ten minutes the four were on the move again, trekking towards the bridge. More of the undead stood in their path, but even while the dark knight was little more than a distraction between the magics of Tellah and the twins nothing could stand against it. In short order they stood before the bridge but stopped short of crossing it.

There it was again. That hiss.

The white mage waved her fist meancingly at her twin. "I told you to stop that!"

"And I told you that wasn't me!"

Tellah clenched a fist. "An evil presence is drawing near." The white-haired sage's eyes pierced the fog.

A voice emanted in the air, like rusted nails scrapping against bricks. "Such pleasure I will take in delivering you to the Gates of Hell!"

"Who's there?" demanded the dark knight as drew his sword out of habit; it made him feel better to bear it, even though he realized the futility of it. "Be on your guard!" he uttered to the others.

Tellah and the twins braced, energy snapping at their fingertips. Again there was that harsh hiss, this time extending into creul laughter. In a flash of perverted light a creature appeared before them. It was entirely cloaked in a rotting robe, skeletal hands seeming as if it had not known flesh or warmth in centuries. Inside the hood only two dark globes could be seen.

"I am the oarsman who will ferry you beyond the veil. The Blighted Despot, Scarmiglione--archfiend of earth, and the first of Golbez's circle of four!"

The twins gasped simultaneously and Tellah growled. Cecil's eyes glazed, in shock. What had they evoked? This one of the elemental archfiends---one of the four strongest forces on all the Blue Planet! The stench that billowed from Scarmiglione could fell a horse and the very miasma of evil felt like it burnt his bones to dust.

Still Cecil stood his ground, swordhand shaking. A glance at his companions told the story of their fear and they looked to him to lead them, to somehow deliver them from this disaster. The dark knight gazed back at them devoid of fear, investing his expression with a bravey he did not feel. Willing not, wanting not, still he was their leader and his duty was to fear nothing.

"My undead children hunger to feast on your flesh!"

A horde of undead crawled out of the very ground to the archfiend's feet, that hunger clearly in their soulless eyes. With no other warning they attacked.

It all felt like a soundless succulent dance as the dark knight dashed in, sword held high. It barely scored a scratch, yet that did not deter him. Hands gropped his arms and legs, sending a stinging coldness through his blood, but neither did that stop him. Cecil felt like a lamb to the slaughter as he was distinctly aware that his sole purpose was to be the bait before the quarry.

A bolt of searing blindness struck the ground inches from the dark knight. He let out a cry, stumbling backwards. Then his sword came out mindlessly, sought any sort of contact to acknowledge his efforts. It bounced off rotting flesh, but did manage to turn the undead's attention to him. They circled him now, tightening until they could tear the very skin from his bones.

And he wasn't even up against the archfiend himself.

Bright flames cycloned the undead rending them ash. Cecil choked momentarily, staggering back. As the smoke cleared he could see the white mage and black mage let out deep breaths, their magical exertions tiring them. A smile fought its way onto his face. He'd served his purpose well enough. Keep the enemy busy with him long enough to give the wizards a chance to eliminate them.

Then the dark knight's vision vanished. A blinding spell of sorts. His mind sketched the image he'd had mere moments before. His sword swung out, even more useless now that he knew naught where to direct it. Something came into contact with his shoulder, sending Cecil flying back, crashing into the hard stone ground.

The air vanished from his lungs upon impact. Choking, Cecil slid his hand along the ground for his sword. Blessedly his vision cleared after he heard a magical chime. Tellah stood by his side, face white as the undead themselves. The twins were just a few feet ahead, both looking entirely spent. The undead had all perished but their master remained.

Like a demon straight from the depths of hell Scarmiglione leapt toward them, talon-like hands reaching for them. Without thinking Cecil pushed Tellah back and ran in front of the twins. His sword tore into the fleshless body of the archfiend. It halted him, but the monster gave no indication of pain, merely pulling back and with a claw snatched up the dark knight by the neck.

"Look into the eyes of Death's keeper!"

Sword slipping out of his grasp, the former Lord Captain dug his hands into that which gripped him, but he might as well been trying to tear away chains. He could feel his body growing weaker and weaker as the air was forcibly kept from his lungs. Again his vision blurred, much more rapidly this time and for a much graver reason.

How could he die here and now? Rosa needed him. He still needed to redeem his soul. This could not be the end...could it?

A flash of light burst into his eyelids. That which held him released, and the dark knight fell to the ground. He hit the stone, shattering a rib and uttered a deep cry of pain. Again his vision came back and it now he cried with joy to see the archfiend of earth stumbling back, having taken a bolt to his chest. Smoke wafted from the charred bones, giving off an even worse stench.

Then he vaporized completely.

"You are the craziest man I've ever met!" exclaimed Tellah as he helped the dark knight to his feet. "Risking your life to give us the time to restore our magic."

Blushing at the praise, Cecil muttered, "I'm simply trying to help somehow." His head lowered, shamed. "I know I'm probably more of a hinderance than a help."

"I should smack you upside the head too."

Sage and dark knight both glanced over as Porom and Palom strode over to them. Palom wore his characteristically smug expression, no doubt gloating over what carnage his magic wrought. Meanwhile his sister had her eyes trained on Cecil, an admonish clearly in them. In her eyes he saw admiration and appreciation gleam.

"You nearly died keeping him at bay." She punched him playfully on the arm. "Give yourself credit."

Yawning, her brother agreed. "I got to hand it to you, dark knight, that's some guts you got."

His jaw slackened. His sword barely dented those monsters and yet they still smiled, impressed, at him. Smiled like Rosa when restored her health with the sand pearl. Smiled like Rydia when he defended her from the guards come to take her away. Smiled like Edward as he took a blow to keep the bard-prince from singing his swan song in Fabul.

But...it was nothing. He was just doing his duty, protecting them to the best of ability, managing barely a recognizable effort.

And they admired him for it.

Maybe there was something to what Rosa said, that he was special in some way.

He swallowed twice before clearing his throat enough to say, "We should take a break." A hand gestured towards a small copse of trees. "There. Then we regroup to pass over the bridge and into the tomb to find out what exactly the archfiend was defending."

As the twins and Tellah followed his orders wordlessly Cecil could only stare, mouth agape. Like the time when he'd gone after the twins or any other act of....well, bravery, he'd not considered it heroism or anything remotely of that nature. But the more he thought of it the more the dark knight had to wonder if actually a mote of light did breathe somewhere in his soul.

And he'd be damned if it was lost to the darkness.


	8. Scene 7

Scene 7: Darkest Before the Dawn

The break was brief but welcome. Cecil felt as if he were minutes away from a moment that would change his life forever. His heart hammered in anticipation. Like a beacon of light the tomb gleamed, as if to pull him in. Was he as a moth to a flame, sucked into the promise of redemption while facing the pinnacle of his destruction?

Cecil shook his head. "I'll take the lead," he said as he adjusted his helm. "Tellah, bring up the rear. Okay, is everyone ready?"

"Uh-huh." Palom bounced up and down.

Porom flashed her brother a look of annoyance. "Yes."

Tellah merely nodded. He seemed ill at ease, but said nothing.

Planting a foot on the first plank of the bridge, Cecil tested the integerity of the wood. Seemed solid enough. He waved the others over. Gripping the rope railing firmly Cecil advanced towards the tomb, his gaze never shifting downwards. He wasn't afraid of heights, but he wasn't exactly fond of them either. As the captain of an airship the dark knight was intimtately familiar with them, but never felt as comfortable with it as did Kain. The dragoon would be bounding over the board, spear in tow.

A grimace spread over his face. The man he'd called friend was no more. In his place was a traitor, turning on his brother-in-arms and assisting in the theft of a crystal and allowing his master steal away with Rosa. What come over the dragoon Cecil knew naught, but he did know two things: he would rescue Rosa and never be seduced by the darkness like Kain.

And yet he was encased in a suit of armor like night blanketed him, carrying a sword as dark as a slab of obsidian.

He swallowed. How could the light ever accept a soul so stained?

Behind him the mages and the sage followed him, Palom constantly commenting on the strange fog that suddenly descended, immediately accompanied by his sister's sharp rebuke. Though the bridge swayed and groaned a few times it remained intact and the four passed over it in short order, approaching the other side swiftly.

Of course nothing could be so simple.

"Impressssssssive," hissed a familliar voice. "But my true strength lies in death and now you shall join me in it!"

A creaulen bolt burst down from the heavens, striking the middle of the bridge. It split the bridge in two, sending the half the party travelled on spinning downwards. Fortunately the poles attached to that half pulled the ropes attached taut, and kept them aloft. For however long they could manage to keep hold on the boards and not plunge thousands of feet to their death, that was.

Though the dark knight had heard the twins and Tellah cry out in fear, he felt as if everything had gone silent. He couldn't hear his own scream of terror, nor the sounds of the bridge maintaining their weight on an angle the dark knight knew it would not for long, nor even his own harsh breathing. Somehow Cecil felt removed from it all.

That's when he realized he was actually quite calm.

"Hang on!" he called to be heard amidst the wind and fog. He did not need to invest his voice with confidence, somehow it was there aplenty. The dark knight took inventory with a glance down. The twins hung desperately to a single board, looking up at him hopefully. Further down was Tellah, looking dazed, probably from the wound to his shoulder.

"Tellah, you'll need to teleport us to safe ground."

No response. "Tellah?" Again, nothing. The dark knight assessed his options. Clearly the sage had sustained an injury that had him half-lucid, and unable to spell them out of there. The twins knew no spells that advanced. Certainly Cecil was completely useless that way, not even knowing some of the terminology of magics let alone spellcasting anything.

"Palom, Porom, one after another you'll need to climb up the bridge and then help keep the poles steady."

Staring at one another the siblings froze, faces radiating fear. With a determined frown, Cecil leaned down as far as he dared and reached the nearest twin, Palom, and gripped his shoulder. "You must listen to me. Start climbing. Right now."

His mouth working with no sound, the black mage finally found his voice. "No, let my sister go first."

"Palom!" His sister gasped, shocked. "No!"

Deciding for her, Cecil snatched her by the robe and pulled her up a few of the planks. Her gaze flew downwards, horrified, but before she could balk, the dark knight pushed her onwards and upwards, taking her place near Palom. When at least the white mage ascended fully, holding onto a pole as if her very life depended on it. Or maybe because her brother's very life depended on it. All of theirs.

"You, now. And no more arguments!" Cecil snapped, almost hurling Palom up on ahead. Muttering something and nothing all at the same time, the black mage too made it safely to the top, immediately mirroring his sister by clutching the other pole. The two made some sort of exchange about Palom being foolhardy but the dark knight dismissed it.

Instead of ascending the bridge, Cecil made his way to Tellah, praying the whole that time Tellah was neither too badly hurt nor apt to fall. What kept the mage locked to the bridge puzzled the dark knight until he caught a glimpse his robe stuck around one of the boards. Realizing the possible dangers of that, Cecil maintained a steady but slow pace towards him.

Now the confidence was ebbing like his pace; slowly but steadily. The twins were secure, but dragging an unconscious man up the bridge would take nothing less than a miracle. Cecil hoped that Tellah could be awakened in order to teleport them next to Palom and Porom but his mind searched for other options since that appeared vastly unlikely.

A board gave way beneath Cecil's foot and he scrambled to kept hold of the bridge, glancing down as it tumbled into the darkness below.

He could afford time no more. Hurrying as fast as he dared Cecil reached Tellah's side. His hand flew to the sage's face. He was muttering something delirously. The dark knight shook him a little, trying to bring him to full conciousness, but Tellah never awoke. His gaze going heavenward Cecil saw the black mage and white mage calling down to him, but the words failed to reach his ears.

Sighing, putting a lid on his mounting fear, the dark knight freed Tellah from entanglement, carerfully held him to his person and tried to ascend. The sage was not much more than flesh and bones and robes, but with the bridge so unsteady and with his own exhaustion Cecil feared he'd not make it. Still up and up he went, fighting against the feeling of doom etching its way on his bones.

With about a half dozen planks to go the bridge gave way entirely sending the dark knight and Tellah spinning towards the darkness.

He had to protect Tellah somehow. Someway. Somehow. Even as they fell, Cecil kept tight rein on his terror, clutching the mage to him. If he could somehow contort his body to keep it between Tellah and the ground perhaps the sage might be spared death. But considering how far they would fall, and how hard the ground was below...

"T--teleport!"

With a burst of silver light and the two vanished to appear on the mountain a heartbeat later.

Stumbling to a knee, Cecil gagged. Palom hugged him fiercely while his sister did the same to Tellah.

"We thought you goners!" Palom nearly suffocated him.

"We didn't know what to do!" The white mage echoed his fear.

Brushing off his robes as he brushed off the young white mage, Tellah rose and said, "I must have bumped my head, but I'll be fine." Then a frown crossed his face. "Cecil you should have gone on without me. I would have recovered and teleported myself out of there when I came to."

Pushing away Palom, Cecil stood also. "When you came to...? Would you have ever? How could I risk that?"

"I'm an old man," snarled the sage. "You're young yet."

Before either of the men could argue the point a miasma of evil coned into presence not three feet away. The stench of death nearly overpowered them and Cecil had to put a fist to his face to keep from gagging again. Then a face appeared from the smoke, one that would leave nightmares in Cecil's sleep forever more. And what was said next made perfect sense.

"Those that see this face must die!"

Scarmiglione stood before them once more. Not a single zombie flanked him, but the dark knight sensed that he needed none. Aside from the twisted, scarred face what exhibited the fiend's undead state was the festering insects crawling out of his robes. One crawled up to Cecil's foot and he stomped on it most heartily.

"One who sees that face wants to die, I'd wager," Palom chimed in.

The mages and sage tightened a circle around Cecil, looking to him to lead them again. And he was ready again. Holding his sword in a figure-eight circle stance, he coldly told the fiend, "This is the end for you, not us." With that, he charged, muttering Rosa's name into his mouthpiece. His sword bounced off the fiend's body, making barely a scratch but the bravado (or foolhardiness?) of his assault threw Scarmiglione off his element, leaving him easy prey to one of Tellah's flame spells.

Uttering a tortured scream, Scarmiglione struck back, knocking Cecil to the ground. With a maggoty foot he intended to flatten the dark knight, but Cecil rolled out of the way, dodging it by a good two feet. A bolt of lightning flashed across the skies, leaving a column of smoke in the spot that would have been the ruin of the fiend had he been there. But he wasn't.

Palom hurled a number of comical insults at Scarmiglione but had to retreat when the fiend took a swipe at him. His sister let out a noisy breath and hauled him out of harm's way when the fiend made a second pass. Tellah pushed Scarmiglione back with a wall of flames giving the dark knight and the mages a chance to breathe.

A voice like the sound of hell's keeper came over that firey wall, ironically chilling their bones. "I'll smite your ruin upon the mountainside!" Then furthering that cold feeling creeping in their hearts, the fiend stepped right through the flames, sparks and smoke swirling around his form and he not looking much the worse for it.

"He's too strong," growled Tellah, hurriedly scanned his mage-books, looking for something, anything that would help. His magical reserves were almost depleted.

Cecil despaired that the sage was correct. The attack seemed to only fuel the First of Four's hunger for their flesh as he advanced upon them with increased eagerness. His own spirit began to flag but he grit his teeth and flashed his teammates a look of ease. Again he must play the hero, even if he felt he was the least equipped to do so.

And having the courage (or again, foolishness?) to do so was a fine thing, but he had to have a plan too.

For the first time since he'd known them Porom and Palom exchanged a deathly serious expression. It seemed a silent conversation was held in their eyes. Then they nodded simultaneously. The white mage turned to Cecil. "We need to hold off the fiend for us, Cecil. Palom and I have a spell that might destory him."

"Be brave again, dark knight," said Palom, bobbing his head. "For a little while longer."

"Palom..." Cecil's face radiated wonderment. "Porom..." Then he nodded. "Do your best, I'm counting on you too."

Tellah stood shoulder to shoulder with the dark knight. "We'll keep the bag of maggots away." As if to emphasis his point, the sage launched a large block of ice, piercing the fiend. Scarmiglione fell back, screaming in anger.

Approaching the "bag of maggots" Cecil felt fear crystalize in his veins like ice-cold water. He knew it was there, he felt it, yet somehow it did not halt his step, even make him breath heavily. The spell the twins spoke of was a timely process he knew, and Tellah was fast running out of magical repeitore. And the dark knight himself was spell-less and might as well have been weaponless for all the good Deathbringer was and yet he advanced upon the fiend to keep him at bay.

As the fiend's arm came down to splatter him to the ground the dark knight blocked it with his sword. Like when the ground beneath the twin's feet gave way or when the bridge was cleaved asunder Cecil felt a strange 'bad feeling' come over him and the moment he brought his sword to his face he knew why.

Deathbringer was little more than a kitchen knife, shards of her blade on the ground around him.

Then the fiend's enormous hand came down again. This time he had nothing to parry with. Desperately the dark knight dodged, feeling the elbow clip his shoulder and bowling him over. Tellah yelled somethng and when Cecil could glance over, he saw the sage on the ground a few feet away, probably hurled aside in an attempt to protect the dark knight.

Not enough time. Not...enough...time...

Cecil shut his eyes as he felt the shadow of the fiend's arm close over him. There was no room to manouver and nothing of which to defend himself with. Deathbringer in the best of form barely nicked the fiend; Deathbringer reduced to a butter knife was even less. And as always happens when faced with one's mortality time illogically slowed to a crawl giving Cecil the moment to recall a memory.

He was in Baron, standing in one of its beautiful rivers. In his hands was the ring, the memory of his lost love, a shard of a broken heart. Yet the feeling was so foreign as it had been the past few months. Cecil clutched it tightly for a moment then, one by one, his fingers unclasped, releasing the ring to the waters. Within seconds, it vanished.

That had been his last act of duty to his lost love, Nina, letting go of her as he let go of the ring. It had been no easy task. Cecil gave his heart away only when truly invested, and having to take it back unwillingly and after such a hard revelation had hurt him, made him resentful of his own battered heart.

Rosa did not heal him. She couldn't. No one could. Cecil came to that realization. And it had taken him many long months to realize that his pain was not something to just smile and nod about, but rather acknowledge how deeply it delved into his heart. How vulnerable he had been. He had felt like his heart was a sword he'd given in trust to a friend and had it returned, ruined. Like a sword, he'd sheathed his heart, ashamed of his own-percieved weakness, never wanting it brought to light again.

Here, now, he dropped the ring as he pulled out the sword, gifting his heart to another should she want it. He made that choice, then and there. Then Cecil left the river, off to find one he hoped would happily take his heart and keep it safe.

A roit of light exploded, blinding Cecil and dragging him into the present. When his sight cleared the dark knight witnessed a sight both paradoxically beautiful and horrible, that of Scarmiglione's ravaged body. Smoke wafted from it, flames burning so high not even the fiend could stomach or squelch it. It consumed the monster entirely, leaving naught but ash to drift off the mountain and off to the four winds.

"We did it!" Palom's voice rose in victory.

Cecil glanced hurriedly to his side but sighed in relief to see Tellah rise, brushing off his robes. "You two are amazing," the sage grunted. "The best sages of Mysidia probably couldn't manage that."

Prancing around, the black mage laughed. "Not even the Eld--Ow, what was that for!"

As one could imagine, it was his sister who silenced the gloating. "The Elder told us not to give into pride." But even she grinned, her eyes shining. She might be more contained in her joy at the success of the spell, but even Porom felt it.

The grin was infectious. Cecil rose, his own face beaming. "We did do it. All of us." His eyes trailed to the tomb but a few feet away. Like it was calling out to his soul, the dark knight longed to leave his companions behind and investigate the building's every nook and cranny to understand the pull, but let out a long sigh.

"We rest again. Then we press on further."

As the others made a campfire, the dark knight's eyes were drawn to the tomb again unable to shake the familiar feeling.


	9. Scene 8

Scene 8: Lightbringer

For days now upon first glimpsing the building Cecil longed to stand before it, touch the cold stone walls, divine from it the secrets of the light to mend his broken soul. Days since 'the feeling' haunted him here. And now the dark knight finally stood before it, his heart seeking solace from the fear threatening to claim it.

The age old question: how could he ever be deemed worthy?

He, a knight of the deepest darkness, carrying the weight of a thousand sins. Him...a paladin? A warrior of the purest virtue, of the noblest of deeds? No wonder the mages at Mysidia mocked him so--even he couldn't believe it. You might as well told the dark knight that they would land on the moon some day, and even find sentient life! Seemed about as likely...

"So how exactly is this large lump of rock suppose to make Cecil here a paladin?" quipped Palom, happily tapping the stone.

Porom snatched his hand and scolded, "Don't question powers your immature mind couldn't possibly understand!"

As crude as he made it, Palom had a point. They had spent the better part of an hour attempting to enter the building, but with no luck. Shoving, spells, even trying to pick the lock had availed them none. What a disappointment to have to return to Mysidia it would be if they had to face the Elder after admitting that they failed because they couldn't manage to open a door?

"And Meteor..." Tellah added, his brow furrowed as he flipped through a mage-book he'd already reviewed four times before. "Where is it? Surely this building holds the key, if only we could get through that blasted door already!" His dark eyes appraised a line of ancient text on the building again. "The words say 'Speak, Son, and you may enter'...but I've already said the word son in Common, Dwarfish, Mysidian, and all the tongues of the Blue Planet!"

"It's a riddle." Palom bounced up. "But who's a 'Son' here?"

All that time Cecil had not spoken, too overwhelmed by it all. But this time he suddenly felt compelled. "Tellah's the only one who has a child, but he had a daughter." Five fingers of a single hand rested on the door, bewildered. "It...is seeking its own son, but who could that be?"

A voice emanated from the building, diamond-strong and otherwordly. "My son...at last you have arrived."

All eyes shot to the dark knight. His own eyes bulged beneath the visor he hurriedly pushed up. "Son? Who speaks to me?"

A riot of light gushed out of the edifice. The four covered their faces. The intensity of the light felt as if it could peel skin from the body, yet it hurt them not. If anything the light was as pleasant as a summer's breeze with a thousand times the power.

When at last he could see, Cecil beheld a sight so beautiful his heart fluttered. Somehow the light transported them into the building and in a hallowed hall, much akin to the one at Mysidia, but even more ancient and radiant. Crystalline pillars held up a canopy of shimmering ceilings and beneath them the floor gleamed polished like a thousand mirrors. The far wall glistened too, a mirror which oddly enough only reflected the dark knight's form.

Son? Did that mean...?

"Long have I awaited this, the day that you would come..." That voice again.

Cecil's hand flew to his sheath but of course it came away empty. As if Deathbringer could do any real damage against a power so immense, so pure. His face flushed, though the dark knight suffered no fever. His eyes panned the room but he couldn't pin-point the sound. "Show yourself!"

Behind him the twins and Tellah glowed with pre-spell casting energy. Yet they too couldn't trace the source of the voice.

"A tragedy unfolds now which pains me more than you can know. To end it, I gift to you my light, though in so doing I condemn myself to sorrow greater still."

Was there sadness in that voice?

"...But the hour is late...No other road remains..."

Another flash of light forced the party to shield their eyes. Upon dissipating Cecil lay his gaze upon the stunning sight of a sword. The blade was made of starlight so pure only the brightest of stars could ever have been used in its making. Upon the hilt could be glimpsed an inscription but not the exact text.

Dragon. Stars. Light. Darkness. Oaths. What did it all mean?

He didn't have long to wonder as the sword floated towards him. Cecil stepped back, unnerved, fearful that it would pierce him for daring to enter a hall so holy. It did not relent, advancing on him in its steady pace. The dark knight retreated again, face ashen now.

"The time has come. Bid farewell to your bloodstained past."

Suddenly the blade was thrust into his hand and for a half-lucid moment Cecil witnessed a man, silver hair, blue eyes, encased in shining armor. The sword was passed from that man to him. Then that image vanished and light cascaded from every nook and cranny of the building, coverging at that point and swept into his very soul.

The light burned and froze him all at the same time. Sweat poured down his body even as chills made a prison of his own limbs. Cecil couldn't comtemplate standing it for more than a single moment and yet the light continued to batter his body as if to scorch the darkness clean from him. His mind began to fray and the dark knight feared that his feeble strength not enough to survive this.

Memories flashed beneath eyelids. Kain striking him down. Rosa kissing him. Rydia grabbing his leg in fear. Edward strumming his lute. Yang leaping. Golbez blasting him with lightning. Tellah grumbling. The twins looking up to him, trusting him...

Friends. Enemies. Feelings. If Cecil thought the Elder's mind-meld an invasion, it was nothing compared to this, as no corner of his soul was safe from the flood of light.

When Cecil came to he knew without having to look that he'd altered forever. Purification. Not because light can douse darkness alone, but because he struggled and sacrificed and had been judged and deemed worthy...

...deemed worthy.

Gasps from behind him caused Cecil to glance down at his body, his breath caught in his throat at the sight. Gone was the suffocating dark armor. Now he was shrouded in armor that didn't just absorb light, but radiated it firecely. And clasped in his hands glistened a sword so holy, so powerful he felt energized just to hold it.

Paladin.

How? Just how?

But again time's river waits for no one and while before Cecil cursed the laspes in action that gave his mind plenty of time to torture himself, this time the voice returned, urgent, "Forsake the darkness you once embraced or the light will find no hold." The newly-annointed paladin glanced up, startled to see that the dark knight image remained in the mirror. "Vanquish the dark knight. You and he are one no more!"

As if made of water the dark knight emerged from the other side to stand before Cecil. His sword, Deathbringer Cecil supposed, rose in challenge, posed for the paladin's heart. Fear pierced through Cecil's heart as if the blade had already found home, but he stiffled it and lifted his own sword.

"There are two of them!" exclaimed Tellah.

Palom yelled, "What is happening?"

Sword of light and sword of darkness crossed, an ancient sign of a challenge accepted. Tears burned in the paladin's eyes, emotion threatening to overwhelm him as the tears themselves did. Not in a thousand years had Cecil thought himself worthy of the hallowed light. And if this battle should be the last moment of his life, he would be forever grateful.

"Cecil!" called out Porom, anxious.

"Look out!" added her brother.

Cecil knew his course though it raised the goosebumps on every pore of his body. He didn't think himself ready so soon, birthed so recently into the light. "Stay back," he heard himself say, his unarmed arm waving them away. "This is a fight for me and me alone. My attonement for all the sins I've wrought." His blue eyes narrowed. "My test." Then his sword extended, this time aimed for the dark knight's chest. "And one I do not mean to fail!"

With no warning the dark knight dove into action, scoring a hit on Cecil's shoulder. Screams from his friends accompanied that sound, as the paladin himself cried out in pain. Cecil then dodged belatedly, missing a blow that would have beheaded him. The dark knight struck out as he had once, with no mercy, every attack meant to kill.

The paladin lifted his sword to parry and rivulets of shock ran down the blade and up his arm to his injuried shoulder. Something hot spread over his neck and down his chest and he spared not even a glance, so focused on defending against the murderous onslaught. This was a battle to the death, at least as far as the dark knight seemed concerned. But what of Cecil...commit another slaying? Something felt terribly wrong about that.

His vision blurred and each step he took left a bloody footprint. As the dark knight rained down blows, seemingly limitless in his energy, Cecil weakened, his own strength as if someone cut a hole in it and let it pour out. When the paladin struck back, interlocking their swords to halt the flurry of attacks, the paladin knew to fight was to fail. His body would survive were he to kill the dark knight, but his soul would die.

Was killing the only way?

Again and again Tellah and the twins begged to be included in the bout, but no matter how many blows he took, and they were many, Cecil barked at them to stay back. They feared for him, he knew, probably aghast at the pool of blood expanding at his feet, seeing their friend on the brink of collaspe. But this was his test and he would be damned before another friend took a blow that was meant for him. Enough of his friends had perished for him.

When was all the death to end?

Death. Mages. Magic...Magic? Then like a candle had been lit, Cecil realized that as a paladin he was gifted with the art of low-level white magic. Spells that could cure illnesses, extend shields of protection and the most elementary of them all, a healing wave that could repair broken limbs and stem life's fluid.

With his sword sideways Cecil shoved the dark knight back, giving him a generous portion of breathing room. He thanked Rosa in his head for casting the healing spell around him so many times, helping him to recall the words now. He sputtered a few times, his hand upturned, cupped as if to accept a gush of water into it.

And so it did, green light pouring into his palm. then rushing into his body. Many times Cecil experienced the healing spell, but never before had he cast one. To evoke the mystical power known as magic was a high that even the most glorious swordfight could never compare. He now knew why so many sought to learn magic.

No more an engine of destruction, an Angel of Death. Protector. Paragorn. Holy knight. Hero Healer. Leader. These were the titles he could lay claim to now. Invigorated Cecil lifted his sword to defend, to thrust the dark knight back. Now his strength felt limitless, his blocks coming swiftly, effortlessly. He was victor by the virture of hating bloodshed, suffering and death.

Kill with kindness? Slay with sympathy? Murder with mercy?

"You can have victory without vengeance..." Cecil whispered so softly none could hear, save one.

The dark knight suddenly turned and strode back from whence he came, the mirror. Then he vanished completely. In his place stood the man who'd given the paladin the sword he now bore. A man not so unlike Cecil himself. Same silver hair. Same blue eyes. Same build.

"No...can't be..." Cecil breathed as he fell to a knee, sword leaned on as a crutch. This time the tears found freedom, marching down his face in a torrent. "F--father...?"

Though the lips of the man-image didn't move somehow the paladin knew the words issued from him. "Your virtue is proven. I will instill you now with my hallowed light, formed of my very soul. May it be your strength, though it is the last of mine..." As if to emphasis that point, the image faded, allowing the reflection of Cecil genuflected to appear.

The next words spoken emanated as if from a great height, floating higher and higher. Though the voice itself came from a great distance, the force behind it intensified. "My son...you must stop Golbez!"

All in a crushing moment Cecil knew the presence had departed. The paladin hurried to his feet, staggering. "W--wait!"

My son...

Cecil never knew his father. What little he did know was that was a tale of his being found outside the gates of Baron by a soldier, who brought him to the king. Baron's king named him Cecil after Cecilia who was widely believed to be his mother. He was raised in the royal court, coaxed into becoming a dark knight to please the king that cared for him. Cecil knew little of his mother; even less so of his father.

How is it that he should encounter a man claiming to be his father here on this mountain?

Destiny, the Elder had said. For once, Cecil finally believed it.

A hand touched his arm. "Are you alright?" asked Porom, face creased with concern.

Palom came up to his other side. "He really did it after all!"

His white mage sister brought a finger to her lips, eyes meancing Palom.

But the paladin's mind flooded with emotions too raw to take notice. So much had occurred so fast. The fiend's defeat, twice. Ascending to paladinhood. Conquering the dark knight. Encountering his father..."What is this warmth I'm feeling? It's so...familiar."

Behind the three Tellah yelped in joy. "My spells...I remember all of them!" When the paladin slowly turned around he could see the sage beamed, hands clasped together. From the way his mouth was agape, Cecil realized that wasn't the only thing that had the sage smiling.

"Me...teor? That light must have granted it to me. The most powerful black magic spell of all, mine at long last!" His hands flew to his beard, overcome.

The twins muttered amongst themselves about "telling him" something but Tellah stepped forward, eyes flashing, hand on Cecil's shoulder. "With this we are made ready at last. Let us bring the fight to Golbez! Cecil!" The paladin gazed into his eyes without focus, himself too swept away by recent events. "What are you standing around for! We must hurry!"

"Of course," was all the paladin could manage to get past the lump in his throat. Then a bit more, "Let's go."

Without further prompting the sage departed eagerly. The twins hung around a moment, gazing up at Cecil. The paladin looked at the door without seeing it. With a brief nod and Palom and Porom left him alone in the hallowed hall, as if sensing he needed a moment more.

"That light. It called me it's...son?"

Casting a glance over a shoulder, Cecil swore he saw that man in the mirror once more, then realized that man was him.

The hall was empty a moment later.


	10. Scene 9

Scene 9: Knight in Shining Armor

Cecil stood before a sign that read "Welcome to Mysidia". What a strange feeling to be here again. When last he stood before this city, he was a wretch of a man, wracked by guilt, broken in body and spirit. Now Cecil felt invigorated, powerful, a man of worth. What a change a couple of days made...

The trek down the mountain had been painfully easy. Whereas before Cecil functioned as a meatshield, now he slew such a path of death even some spells couldn't achieve. Additionally when one of the party sustained an injury with a touch of his hand it would be healed, saving the magical reserves of the mages and the sage for other spellcasting duties. Not that that became much of a problem...

Cecil was a one man walking army. Monsters climbed over the bodies of their companions to escape his blade. It gave the paladin great pleasure to finally deal fatal blows to the undead, particularly while wielding such a powerful sword. Whenever his eyes trailed to the hilt his gaze caught the sight of the scribed text Cecil barely understood. But his companions were in shock that he could even read that much; even the linguistics of Tellah couldn't manage that much.

When the four passed through the gates Palom and Porom hurried in, chatting with and hugging their many mage friends. They gleefully introduced Tellah which stunned the mages to meet him. But even the appearance of arguably the greatest sage on the planet couldn't top who the twins paraded around next.

Cecil, former dark knight, now paladin. He exuded light so bright he was a human sun, his sword a blade of starlight and the armor plates of burnished silver, all framed by a cape as fluid as water. Even his eyes seemed to glow, burning with wisdom borne not from age, for Cecil was still quite young, but from suffering and the courage that he had acquired from overcoming that pain.

"A paladin...I did not think it possible," uttered one black mage, hat flown off his head because he looked up and down Cecil so many times.

A white mage touched his cape as if savouring the fabric of a robe of a deity. "So this is the splender of a paladin...You look magnificent!"

When they visited Zozo with its decadent dancers and angry mages they were so shocked at his appearance that one mage even fell off her chair. The dancers surrounded the paladin. One stroked his back meaningfully while another whispered an offer so risque that it made Cecil blush, his thoughts flying to Rosa who would have crossed her arms and given him a glare had she heard it. Cecil removed himself from the situation as quickly as he was able.

Meanwhile a drunken mage stumbled over to the paladin and peered up at him most curiously. "I must be drunk," he slurred. "I thought I just saw a paladin."

After those awkward escapades the four left the establishment, heading for the House of Prayers. On their way others of the mage-city made comments, some astonished, some approving, and even one that claimed that he would still never forgive Cecil for his transgressions to which the paladin responded, "I do not expect forgiveness from others, for I have not yet earned it from myself."

One white mage frowned at the black mage that uttered that comment, and he made a grunting acknowledgement and left. Cecil recognized her as the one he'd accidently spooked while she came to serve him a meal all those days ago. His mouth opened to give appreciaton for her support, but she spoke first. "You were pained by what happened too, weren't you?"

The twins and Tellah both looked at Cecil, concerned because the paladin's eyes brimmed with tears. All Cecil did was nod.

"I will pray for you as well."

After that they entered the House of Prayer. All of the mages within seemed eager to engage him but remained at their posts, awaiting their leader. They were not long in waiting, as Lukhan descended the stairs, respoldent in his earth-toned robes. His eyes widened like the twins moons upon setting them on Cecil.

"You've returned," he gasped, bounding down the stairs two at a time in his pleasant shock. "And a dark knight no longer!"

Cecil gave him a faint smile, almost embarrassed at how the Elder stared at him so. Last he'd seen the elderly man he was almost fatherly to the former dark knight, but still very wary of him. Now Cecil's transformation seemed to transform Lukhan as well--into a believer. When the Elder had circled him last, it was somewhat intimidating. Now he almost felt like a worshipped hero.

"Just as you can see!" Porom clapped her hands together.

"I didn't think he'd be able to do it either!" her brother tugged on his cape.

That made Cecil start, remembering the little hints the twins dropped. While it annoyed him before, now the paladin took it stride, even more gracious now that he was vindicated. Still he titled his head and asked, "Either?"

Lukhan stopped circling him in mid-step and retreated, a bit embarrassed. "Forgive me. It pained me to do so, but I sent along these two to keep watch on you--to ensure your intentions were pure. It seems there was no need." His gaze shifted to the twins, his mouth wide with pride. "Palom, Porom...you've done a fine job."

Chagrined, Palom said, "Well now you know."

Porom added, "I'm terribly sorry I couldn't tell you."

With a wave his hand and Cecil cut them off. "No, you were well within your rights after all I'd done."

"But those deeds are behind you now," Lukhan went on. "You are a paladin...Where did you get that sword?" A finger of the Elder tapped the sword's hilt.

In one fluid movement and the paladin drew the blade. It gave a satisfying ring of steel and he held the hilt with one hand while bracing the tip with his other. "I received it on the mountaintop."

"The writing engraved on its blade...Those are the words of a Mysidian legend."

"A legend?" Cecil asked, but Lukhan had already rushed off to fetch another book. This too was a blue-bound tome, larger than the last and even more ancient if the yellowed, almost entirely decript pages were any indication. After flipping through a few pages and mumbling a few times to himself, Lukhan spoke, once again as if the vehichle of some greater power.

"Birthed from the womb of a dragon's maw and borne unto the stars by the light and darkness cast aloft are dreamtide oaths resworn."

Every goosebump on the paladin's body rose, his breath hitched. The whole journey felt a bit like destiny and bit of a dream, but those words themselves made Cecil realize that his greatest and most challenging moments had yet to be engaged. And while he felt empowered, ready to tackle the hardest hits fate would swing at him, one question remained.

"The light on the mountain called me his son," his voice hushed, wonderment bleeding into the tone. "Whose was the voice I heard?"

The Elder blinked, obviously caught off-guard, "I do not know what the light you saw was, nor do I know what the legend foretells. All I know is that we Mysidians have been told for generations to pray for its realization. To pray--and to trust in the one who bears the hallowed light." Now his gaze pierced the paladin, yet Cecil remained steady, his gaze unturned.

"I believe that one may be you."

Thankfully affording Cecil a moment to digest this newest piece of shock, Tellah made his presence known and it became apparent that the Elder and the sage knew each other. They discussed Meteor briefly, the conversation travelling the Tellah's murdered daughter and his intention on exacting revenge on her killer--Golbez, one that Cecil himself had much vested interest in confronting. The Elder warned his friend to not let vengeance guide his heart and hand, something the paladin himself was fast learning, but Tellah didn't heed him. Cecil hadn't anticipated him to anyways--it wasn't in the sage's nature.

"But young Cecil has become a paladin now. If the two of you work together you just might have a chance," Lukhan was saying, his attention returning to the paladin.

Sheathing the blade Cecil said, "But if we are to face Golbez, we'll need an airship. We must go to Baron." His heart constricted at the name of his hometown passing his lips, but he contained it. Now that he'd finally succeeded at conquering the mountain and achieved paladinhood not another moment could be lost.

His mind floated back to Rosa, his beloved, taken from him. His eyes closed, overcome by the feeling of desperate love and worry for her. After that night he'd thrown away the ring of his former lover and told the white wizardess how much he loved her, had loved her long ago, and how that love had returned with strength this time he couldn't ignore the dark knight was sick to his stomach that she would scorn him, slap him or laugh at him.

What he had not expected was her lips full upon his, leaving a lingering scent in the air. It was instantly addicting. She smiled and told him she felt exactly the same, what had taken him so long to realize it, say it, just allow himself to feel it. His answer was like hers, mouth on mouth, pulling her tight to him, the dark knight never wanting to let her go.

And that night the dark knight didn't.

The Elder drew him from the reverie as he spoke. "Very well. I will reopen the entrance to the Devil's Road. As a paladin you should be able to walk it safely. I will retire to the Tower of Prayer and pray for your success." His hand fell on Cecil's shoulder. "Go now. The fate of the world rests in your hands."

"Thank you," Cecil uttered, humbled.

As the paladin and the sage took steps towards the door, Palom and Porom hurried after them, but the Elder added, "You need to accompany Cecil no more. Your work is done."

Palom stomped his foot, indignant. "No, it isn't. You told us to help him, didn't you?"

His sister added, looking almost stunned that she was agreeing with her irrepressible brother once again, "Please, Elder, let us go, too!"

Though Cecil frowned at the thought of having the two in his care again, he had to acknowledge their amazing skills. Palom and Porom mistakingly took his objection for doubt of their abiliites and indeed he packaged the complaint as such, since he didn't want them to know he feared for their safety should he fail to protect them. Fortunately, Tellah seemed to understand and reassured him they'd be safe.

The mages made them feel at home in the House Prayer and Cecil found himself alone in the room he'd awoken in a few days ago. The carpet he'd ruined was cleaned; no trace of food could be found. Instead, a new tray lay on a table a few feet away, but the paladin just sat on the bed, his mind spinning with all of what the last few days revealed and changed in him.

Tomorrow the four would step onto the glowing pad known as the Devil's Road to travel back to Baron. To face his past, to find Rosa and to save the world--tasks benefitting his bright new future. His hands sought out the sword, blade as bright as starlight, knowing this reflected his soul now. His eyes shut, taking in all of this moment, summoning all the strength of his friends, his father and his beloved.

This time, he would not fear going into the light.

He was a paladin.


End file.
